


Pampered

by the_soot_sprite



Category: The Witcher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28017615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_soot_sprite/pseuds/the_soot_sprite
Summary: Geralt needs some tender loving care





	Pampered

Candlelight illuminated the darkened room. A roaring fire warmed your chambers, providing extra light in the enclosed space. You had finished heating up the last bucket of water, dragging it over to the large bath. Steam rose from the full tub after you poured the last bucketful in. Satisfied with your preparations, you turned to the large man and inclined your head for him to enter the waters. 

Reluctantly, the brooding Witcher climbed into the tub, hissing at the temperature. “Oh shush, you big baby,” you admonished. “Move up and make some room.” 

A grimace marked his face as he huffed over your commands but still, he complied. Though he could easily break you with his massive hands, you held a power over him and he couldn’t refuse your requests. Slipping in behind him, you adjusted your legs, practically hugging him. The water sloshed over the two of you, swirling around your naked forms. 

You cupped your hands and filled them with water. You let it cascade over his shoulders, slowing wetting his skin as you continued to pour water on the exposed areas. The warmth of the room kept you from getting chilled as the water cooled and dried against your bodies. 

Content that he had a layer of water on his skin, you reached over to the small table beside the tub filled with mysterious potions. Humming a soft unnamed tune to yourself, you opened each stopper and lifted the bottle to your nose. Bottle after bottle came under scrutiny until you found the right one. 

Pouring a small dollop into the palm of your hands, you placed the closed bottle back on the table before turning your attention back on the large man straddled between your thighs. You rubbed the mixture between your hands before touching him. Your slippery hands moved across his back, gently coating the surface with a thin layer of soap. You pressed your fingers into his neck, slowly working your thumbs into the tight muscles. The gentle pressure earned a low grunt from the Witcher as you felt him slowly relax into you. 

“Hmmm,” he murmured to himself. 

Satisfied you had paid enough attention to the area, your hands glided down his back, loving tracing your fingers over the many scars. Your deft fingers soon kneaded the broad back, slowly loosening up the tension he always carried there. The many years of strapping a heavy sword to his back had made him impossible tight. You methodically worked your way across the entire expanse, taking your time to work at the muscles until they became loose under your touch. 

Geralt sighed as he felt the tension fall away. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of your hands on his skin. He hummed his appreciation when he felt your breasts pressed up against his back as you stretched out to massage his arms. Both hands worked in tandem to squeeze and rub his limbs. You slid your palms up and found his impressive chest, caressing the massive muscles under your fingers. His breath hitched under your touch. He relaxed into your gentle strokes before you drew your hands away.

Without a word, you cupped the water with your hands and washed him off. The soap slipped away from his skin, leaving his skin fresh and renewed. The warm water further loosened the tensions in his body. You leaned over and placed a small kiss to his shoulder before signaling him to tilt his head back. 

Just as you had gotten his body wet to prepare for the soap, you did the same for his hair. Pleased at the level of dampness, you scanned the row of bottles until your eyes alighted on your intended choice. Remembering it from your previous investigation, you pulled the cork with a pop. Inhaling deeply, the scent wafted through the air as you poured the mixture over his locks. Placing the closed bottle back, you gently lathered the mixture through his hair. 

Rubbing the soap into his hair, the bubbles laid atop his head. You started at his forehead and slowly massaged the mixture into his hair. The bubbles slipped between your fingers. You squeezed your fingers against his scalp, gently massaging his head as you slowly worked through his hair. Pressing against the sides of his temple, you heard a low groan of appreciation escape the Witcher. You smiled gently to yourself as you continued to work through the rest of his hair. Assured that the entirety of his scalp was lathered, you reached down to the water and repeatedly poured water over his hair until you’re sure it was free of the soap. 

The smell of chamomile filled the air when you poured another potion into your hands. This one offered no signs of sudsing bubbles; rather, it’s thick creamy texture glided over your hands as you rubbed the mixtures into his hair. 

Geralt inhaled deeply, relishing in the relaxing scent. “Mmmm,” he offered as an opinion.

Your fingers gently carded through his pale white locks, taking care to gently untangle the knots in his long hair. Your fingers nimbly slipped through his strands. You loved the way it shown in the fire, all silvery and shimmery; it seemed to glow beneath your hands, spilling across your palms like the sliver of moonlight against the inky blackness outside your window. 

You cupped your hands and brought the water up to his head. You loved the way it cascaded down his ivory locks, the light dancing on his snowy mane. You slowly poured water over his head, letting your fingers rub through it on the way down to fetch more. His body sank against yours as you continued your ministrations, softly humming to yourself. The crackling fire accompanied your tuneless song.

A soft snore interrupted your reverie. You peered over his shoulder to find his lids closed and his head drifting to one side. You let his body sag against yours in the water, supporting his head with your crook of your arm. Tenderly caressing the side of his ruggedly handsome face, you smiled ruefully to yourself: the great Witcher had finally found his peace.


End file.
